A small matter ...

[T'aral 0]

After confirming that the Starfleet Spectral Virus Innoculation was effective on New Vulcan, T'Aral authorized further medical rotations. Having completed her own rotation, the Medical Officer took an afternoon off - in contact with the Comanche Creek, but not remaining around the medical tents.

 

Travelling to the outskirts of the settlements, T'Aral reviewed the various reports. Marius Caproni was forbidden the injection he was requesting: both T'Aral and other Vulcan medical practitioners disapproved of the use of preventative antibiotics, with the position that it merely fosters more resilient bacterial pathogens. Instead, Marius was checked over three times a day over the next two days to assure that he had not contracted any disease from his unfortunate task - and reminded that such activities should be performed wearing suitable bio-protective equipment.

 

Administrator Sarel was advised of the water concern. He immediately approved notifying the colony and initiating additional individual purifying measures. Medical was advised regarding monitoring for specific necrotic bacterial infections, as that was the most immediate concerns when facing a situation of this nature.

 

Captain Calestorm's care was noted in a secure log, with T'Aral intent on monitoring the matter carefully. There was a concern that if the captain relied on injections, she may become dependent on them. A curious choice, given that an hour under Doctor Rogers' care followed by two months of steady progressive therapy from T'Aral would permenently solve the matter - a situation she would have to some day face, or be crippled. T'Aral would have to follow up with the captain regarding her views on away-team assignments. If she was a 'Vanguard Captain', leading her crew in dangerous situations, then T'Aral would have to recommend reconstruction much more urgently.

 

All other concerns she had were suddenly set aside as she arrived at a stony outcropping on the far side of a jagged mountain. There T'Lar had established a small collective of priests with the focused purpose of providing spiritual foundation to the Vulcan colony. While a most challenging proposition given the rigid discipline of logic, it was not impossible. Belief in the spiritual was not illogical - it was easily acceptable given certain premises; premises that simply could not be proven.

 

T'Aral stripped off the trappings of a Leutenant and medical officer, taking on the robes of a priestess adept. She sat in silence, allowing the small circle she was joining to discuss a most important matter: the Koon-ut-kal-if-fee. There were several younger members who insisted that some other means of dealing with undesirable pairings was needed, while the older generation insisted that the traditions be maintained - better to die as a people than to give up who they were. T'Aral noted that T'Lar had remained conspicuously silent ... and suddenly she noted the woman was staring right at her, as if she was supposed to put an end to the deadlocked conversation. While it was possible that she was wrong, it would be illogical not to act.

 

"What if a compromise could be established?"

 

Master Sarden turned to T'Aral, his face betraying none of the incredulity behind it. "How could that be possible? We are discussing a challenge to the death."

T'Aral paused, unable to fully restrain the nervousness inside her. "The issue is the Kal-if-fee, and the need to resolve the Plak Tow successfully. My research into the ritual indicates that the blood fever ceases once the victim is either decisively victorious or defeated. The process invariably leaves the loser of the challenge unconcious for a few precious minutes before death. If the offical invokes the Kroi-kah in a timely manner, a trained medical responder may be able to act quickly to save the life of the vanquished.

 

"This would satisfy all requirements: the preservation of Vulcan life, our traditions, and our need to resolve biological imperatives." T'Aral eased back into her robes, hoping that no one would speak to her again.

 

 

The discussion continued for several hours, and at length T'Aral's communicator chimed - she was being recalled to the Comanche Creek. As she left the group and returned to her Starfleet garb, T'Lar stepped outside to meet her. "You are to be thanked: you have saved our spirit again. The discussion will continue for days, but already there is little doubt that your compromise will be acceptable."

T'Aral bowed to her mentor. "I am honored."

T'Lar then turned serious. "And yet you will not stay? You have a balance to your mind which is needed among us."

T'Aral continued in her preparations. "If I am needed here, then I am needed more elsewhere. While stubborn in their ways, our people are logical, and in you they have an excellent guide. The people on the ship make decisions which are irrational and most illogical. They have need of someone to give them balance, and who will advise them on their own care without the burden of emotional concerns."

T'Lar nodded, then saluted T'Aral. "My thoughts shall be with you, may you be sustained in tranquility among the chaos you encounter."

T'Aral nodded and saluted in reply, deftly avoiding the human tendency to smile. "Live long and prosper, my teacher." Snapping her communicator open, T'Aral signaled the transporter station. "T'Aral to Comanche Creek - lock on to this signal: one to beam up."